Occulte
by Angelic Lawyer
Summary: This story takes place after the musical ending. A weird dream makes Christine change her mind and search for Erik once again. But soon she realizes that it won't be easy to find the Angel of Music.
1. Save a prayer 'til the morning after

**A/N:** Here I am once again! Well, fist of all, I want to express my never-ending gratitude for you all that reviewed my first phic, you don't have any idea of how much it meant to me! Thank you, thank you, thank you! And, please, keep reviewing ;) Anyway, let's talk about this one: in the beginning, I wrote it as an one chapter story, but I just kept thinking about it and wrote too much, so Occulte will have many chapters. The story starts in the morning after the musical ending and it's entirely narrated by Christine. Hope you like it! As always, tell me if I commit any grammar error, okay? Oh, and review! 

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters, I'm just a poor little girl looking for a happy end. Erik, Christine, the Fop and the others belongs to Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay (although I'm still trying to find a Brazilian _Phantom_'s version or buy the English/American one for a reasonable price...), Andrew Lloyd Webber and the RUG. 

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**_Occulte_**

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Chapter I – Save a prayer 'til the morning after

I can easily recall all my way through the long and winding road that leaded me to his door. It will never disappear and I remember it now as I did before.

Even some hours later in that day, still my thoughts couldn't be consistent. _Have I lost my second chance? Or was it only a dream? I wondered in confusion. _God, give me courage to find out. Give me courage to search for my Angel. _These same crowded streets I'm walking on now, were part of my journey in the past._

**Xxx****X**

I wrapped the blankets around me after Raoul closed the door and left me all alone. He stayed in my room for what seemed hours, watching me as I pretended to be asleep. All the time, he tried to say without words that it was all right. But I knew that it wasn't. 

I didn't know what time it could be and, honestly, I didn't want to. I just knew that it was still morning – the morning after the night that decided my destiny.

I stayed on an inn's bed since the arrival, my eyes shut and my mind racing to him. I would only have thoughts, because I had thrown away the chance to have him. Why? Why had I fled from him when all I wanted to do was remain in his arms? The memory of our kiss struck my mind. It had been like an epiphany, when I recognized my own feelings. That minute, I knew what I wanted: I wanted to follow my heart – I wanted to stay. But just when I had made my choice, he sent me away. How could I, the disobedient chorus girl, obey this time?

My desperate wanders were suddenly interrupted by the sound of footsteps. They weren't Raoul's; he had noisy, prepotent footsteps – typically aristocratic. The footsteps I was hearing were extremely faint, somehow even elegant, if I could tell it by a simple sound. Who could it be now?

Cold fingers caressing my cheek answered my question. Those fingers... they could only belong to...

"Erik." 

I opened my eyes and he instantly withdrew his hand. Yes, the Phantom of the Opera was there – inside my room. While I managed to stand up, he recoiled to a darker spot.

"Christine." He said, his powerful voice reduced to a whisper. The peculiar way he pronounced my name hadn't changed, but he had. Although he still wore a mask, I could see the intense sadness and deception on his expression in a way he had never allowed me to see before. His clothes were full of mud and his cape almost destroyed, opposing to his habitual elegance. I wondered with concern and guilt if the mob had found him or at least been close to achieve that goal.

"I was worried about you," with so many things to tell him, I could only say that.

"Don't be," he said with bitterness, "I'm not worthy of your concern."

"You know it isn't true," I approached him slowly, sensing his body stiffens.   

He made no reply. Maybe he had no words, or maybe was just trying to avoid more contact.

"I was afraid that you..." I hesitated and left the phrase unfinished.

"As you can see, I am not dead," he muttered and turned away brusquely. "I couldn't die without even looking at you for the last time. It wasn't in my plans, however, to find you wide awake."

"Erik," I started, taking more steps towards him and forcing him to look at me, "leave you was the biggest mistake I have ever committed. Forgive me, please."

"There is nothing to be forgiven. You've made your choice," he clenched his fists in an effort to contain the pain expressed in those words. "After all, he is handsome, noble and will live with you in the sunlight. You will be happy with him."

"I will be happy with _you,_" I reached out to touch his face, but his hand caught mine before I could complete the action.

We remained silent, our hands entwining, during an instant. When our gazes met, I read the uninterrupted battle of feelings within his eyes: despair, hope, disbelief, faith, rage, love. His eyes mirrored mine. I wanted that moment to last forever, but Erik released my hand and moved backwards.

"Don't forget me. I will never forget you," he made his way to the window and I panicked when I realized what he was about to do.

"Erik, don't go away! Don't leave me! I..."

"I love you." These last three words came out of my mouth as I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. The same white blankets were enveloping me and my head was resting on the same pillow. _I_ would be the same if it weren't for a ray of light that changed everything, coming from the open window.


	2. The first steps

**A/N: **Actually, these first two chapters are rather short ones, for they are just a sort of introduction. The next one will be longer, I promise.Thanks to all of you that reviewed the last chapter, good to know that you liked this story. Please, tell me what you think about this continuation! Special thanks to Lavendar for the vocabulary correction and to AngelCeleste85 for the help with the past of the verb hurt :) I'm often tormented by this kind of doubt and I really appreciate it when people help, so, thanks!

**Disclaimer: **I do not own the Phantom, Meg, Christine, etc., etc.. Nobody does, really... It would be slavery, don't you think?

Chapter II – The first steps

I stayed lost in thoughts for a long time, until Raoul entered the room. Catching me finally awake, he ran in my direction and took my hands.

"Oh, my darling, I was so worried about you," he said protectively.

I had already decided what to do. Dream or not, I had to discover Erik's whereabouts. Before I could do that, I had to communicate my decision to Raoul. The idea of hurting him hurt me as well, but it was for our sake. My marriage with him would be an enormous lie, lacking of many feelings. Even our engagement had been a big mistake, when we both had confounded a special friendship with something more. He deserved much more than confusions. 

"Raoul, I have something to tell you," I sat up on the bed and made a gesture for him to sit by my side, "it's very important."

"What is it?" He asked, concern flashing in his eyes.

"I've been thinking a lot about our engagement," I took a deep breath and continued, twisting my hands in my dress fabric, "and concluded that it would be better to the both of us if we break it."

 "It's him, isn't it?" His question sounded more like an affirmation.

"I don't know," I answered with sincerity.

"If this is your decision," he said with grief and a kind, sad comprehension,  "I'm afraid I can do nothing." 

"No, you can't," I squeezed his hand, trying to bring him some comfort. "But I will always love you as my childhood friend and the brother I've never had."

"I will always love you, Christine."

I took off the delicate golden ring that symbolized our engagement and gently deposited it on his open hand.

"But where are you going?" He asked, suddenly afflicted. "Your flat isn't secure, you know."

I sighed, knowing that Raoul wouldn't accept the idea of Erik not being a monster and not harming me. Erik hadn't a good concept about Raoul too and I couldn't blame the two for it, their only encounter had been far from agreeable.

"To Meg's house. I know she will receive me," I paused, standing up and making my way to the door. "Goodbye, my dear friend."

As I had told Raoul, Meg received me in her house and asked me a thousand questions. After some minutes, I told her the whole story.

"You broke up with Raoul because of a dream?" She asked at last, astounded. "Christine, the Opera Ghost can be dead now!"

"Oh, Meg, I know he is alive. I can feel it. Besides, you said the mob found nothing in his house," Meg had told me about the things that had happened after I was gone with Raoul and I answered her question aware of how illogical it all sounded to her. 

"Yes, I said that, but just the same, he can travel to another country and never come back."

"I will find him even if he vanishes into haze," I said confidently, keeping my doubts to myself. "And it was better to Raoul. I can love him as my best friend, not as the wonderful husband that he certainly will be."

"If you say so..." She sighed. "It's nearly lunch time, we better eat something. My mother will be back only for dinner and later we can explain the whole affair to her."

"Thank you, Meg," I was grateful for didn't need to discuss anymore; I had had enough of it for one day, "tomorrow I'll return to my flat."

She nodded and leaded me to the dinning room, still with a questioningly expression.


	3. Reminiscences

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A/N: Thank you for your comments! Attending to the demands, here you have some fluffy scenes. Well, I already finished this story and actually am revising it all. Please, tell what you think about this chapter and, as always, warn me of any error. Oh, before I forget, the name of the tenor... I don't know if there are any heavy metal fans here, but anyway, hope someone recognizes his name :p

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Disclaimer: Don't belong to me, as always.

Chapter III – Reminiscences

That night, during the dinner, I explained the last happenings to Madame Giry, who heard it all in her impassible – yet concerned – way.

"So, Madame Giry," I finished the narrative, "may I ask you something?"

"Yes, child?" The tone in her voice indicated that she already knew what it was before she had allowed me to make my question.

"Have... have you seen Erik after what happened?" I asked, pleading secretly to hear a "yes".

"No, I haven't," her austere expression softened with pity – I couldn't tell if it was for me, for Erik or for us both. "I haven't seen him since... that episode."

"Oh," I suspired with disappointment.

Meg quickly changed the subject. She told me that La Carlotta had quitted the Opera and that a new tenor, an Italian man called Fabio Lione, had been contracted to replace Piangi.

"Why don't you try to get your job back?" She suggested cautiously. "You still can have a brilliant career."

"I don't know," I replied, sighing. Meg's incentive reminded me of Erik's lessons and the only reason that kept me singing in the course of my curt ascension in the Opera Populaire: to receive my mentor's commendations. "Maybe I will."

The next day, Meg and I went to my flat. After having some tea, she went back to the rehearsals that were being independently organized by her mother and I started to rearrange my possessions. In the buffet, I found some forgotten costumes, my dresses, shoes and a few jewelry – most of it Erik's gifts.

One in special called my attention; it was a silver necklace with a sapphire drop. I closed my eyes, remembering the day Erik gave it to me.

We were in my dressing room, where he used to meet me before our lessons in his house. I sensed he was gazing over me and his apprehension as I opened the small box covered with black velvet. It was one of his gifts. I took the jewel out of its recipient and blushed, shamed of having nothing to give in retribution. My only way to thank him was by doing my best in our lessons, what seemed to bring some happiness into his world of sadness.

"It's very beautiful, Erik," I said, suspending the piece on my hands to admire its simple beauty, then looking at him, "thank you."

"I thought of how it would match with your eyes," he said, looking more relaxed.

I glanced at the necklace again, wondering how he managed to buy those kind of things without being noticed. Erik was always putting me on the top of his priorities, acting at the same time like a good teacher with his pupil, like a close friend with his estimated one, like a lover with his beloved.

"Could you please put it on my neck?" I asked suddenly, paying attention to his reaction. "I want to see how it looks..."

His mask was useless to hide his complete disbelief. Perhaps nobody had ever asked him to be so close to them. During our companionship, Erik had touched me only in a few situations and always by accident. But I wanted him to touch me in anyway: as a teacher, a friend, a lover. I suspected that he thought that I would be disgusted if he did so, but he never disgusted me. I went to the front of the mirror in a silent plea. 'Touch me, trust me...', I longed for his touch, for a proof of his trust in me. 

"As you wish," he finally replied.

I moved my hair aside in order to free my neck and he wrapped it with the necklace. His long fingers gently brushed my skin, feeling almost like a caress; but all the same, their deftness on my unaccustomed skin provoked me an involuntary shiver. He rapidly fastened the necklace and backed away.

"You look lovely," he said with melancholy.

Looking at the mirror, I observed the sudden sadness in his eyes. He had probably interpreted my shiver as loathing or regret for letting him touch me.

Noticing that I was watching him, Erik turned away. "Now, we must start our lesson, my dear," he walked to the mirror and pressed its switch with his back turned to me.

I knew that somehow I had to repair the damages caused to his self-confidence by a lifetime rejection. My fallen angel had been hurtled so many times during his life that it wasn't fair to let him draw on his desolation once more. Tentatively, I touched my hand to his arm and he turned, surprised.

"Erik, thank you again for the present," I looked into his eyes and smiled. "It was very sweet."

He answered with a faint smile and a curt nod. We stared at each other for a minute or two, our smiles slowly fading, conscious of the many words left unspoken, but unconsciously drawing closer. Feeling him shudder, I slid my hand onto his shoulder and he hesitantly covered it with his own. I hadn't had the time to savor the contact, because almost at the same instant, as if waking from a trance, he impulsively retreated from me, continuing to make his way through the passage.

That night, I asked Erik to teach me some new duets, as an excuse to sing with him. Watching his hands run passionately on the keys, I concluded that this was really the best way to thank him for everything: letting his soul fly free through the music.

With these memories in mind, I wore the necklace and, caressing its drop in front of the mirror, I wished I could see Erik's reflection beside mine again.


	4. Down once more

**A/N:** As always, I want to tank you for the reviews. You don't have any idea of how much your comments mean to me! Hope you keep reviewing and giving me such happiness :D  Oh, and the format of this text doesn't look like I wished it would look… It's because I'm using the Word 2000, and I was habituated to the Word 97 =/ But it does not change anything too important, as you can see. _draegon-fire_: answering your questions, as said in the beginning, this story takes place after the musical ending, so, Erik's disappearance here is the same as in the musical: when the mob arrives, the Opera Ghost had gone without a trace. Like in the musical, I won't specify to where Erik disappeared. And about what he's going to do when he finds that Christine is looking for him… Well, you'll see ;) 

**Disclaimer: **I don't own dear Erik, the managers, Christine, Meg, Madame Giry or any of the characters mentioned in this story. They belong to the _bon vivant_ Gaston Leroux, Andrew Lloyd Webber, the RUG and Susan Kay. 

Chapter IV – Down once more 

At once I realized that the sooner I could go back to the Opera and try to be a soprano again, the better.

Only one day after arriving in my flat, I was walking in the Opera Charles Garnier and knocking on the managers' office door.

"Oui?" Monsieur Firmin's voice came reluctantly from within. Being the occupied man he had always been, he was surely occupied making business and contracts. But soon he opened the door and recognized me. "Ah, Mlle. Daaé! It's a pleasure to see you again! Do come in."

I thought that it wasn't exactly a pleasure, but he was pretending properly. I saw Monsieur Andre, with a cup of tea in one hand, already stood up to greet me as I entered the room.

"Hello, Mademoiselle Daaé. Good to see you again," he smiled and gestured for me to sit on a chair next to the table where all the contracts were signed.

"Hello, Messieurs," I said with discomfort as the two men stared at each other. Until that moment, I didn't know if Raoul had told them about the end of our engagement. "I presume that you have already guessed why I am here. I wonder if, maybe, I could get my job back?"

"With Piangi's death and La Carlotta's demission, we've been searching for a new tenor and a new lead soprano. We've already found the tenor," M. Andre spoke, "and, for the soprano, we've been thinking about you."

"You're already known by our public," M. Firmin cleared his throat and resumed his colleague's speech, "in spite of the last events, you are perfect for the job."

I hadn't thought about replacing La Carlotta, of course that I was flattered. But the absent way in which M. Firmin referred to Erik sounded a little suspicious to me. Putting those thoughts aside, I started to negotiate my contract. They were offering a good salary and didn't seem to bother with my marital status, if they knew about it. One hour later, I was signing the papers.

Leaving the office, I went to my old dressing room. After make my contract, I had one more thing to do before leave the building: check Erik's house.

While I opened the passage in the mirror and lighted a lantern, I wondered if even with his hiding place discovered by the mob, he could be living there. It was a place so ridiculously probable that no one would ever think of it.

I walked through the labyrinth and reached the gate in a couple of minutes. It was opened and I crossed the invisible threshold with a strange feeling, as though I was entering in another world – and I really was, somehow.

I found Erik's house completely destroyed, almost unrecognizable. The piano was broken, with its keys violently tore off; the couch had been burned and, in the fireplace, many books that Erik used to read for me were turned into ashes. I walked to his room, a place that I had hardly entered before, and saw that the saddening furniture in there had been savagely destroyed too.  

Before I could notice, tears were rolling down my cheeks. I knew it was my entire fault. I wanted nothing but apologize to Erik; apologize for being so childish and for hurting him one more time when all I really wished was to make him forget about all the pain he had already suffered. If I could only have him by my side... Suddenly, I heard something that made my heartbeat double with hope: music. It was the harmonic sound of a violin and I recognized the song as the one that had Erik sang for me when I came into his home for the first time; he used to call it "The Music of the Night".

"Night time sharpens 

_heightens each sensation..._

Darkness wakes 

_and stirs imagination"_

I started to sing it almost automatically and ran to the music room, from where the music appeared to be coming from at that moment. I could imagine Erik standing there, the violin lifted up to his chin, playing my father's instrument with ardor. I pictured him without the mask. That piece of porcelain consisted in pure nonsense to me. He was a genius, a gentleman and my beloved; what did it matter that his face was scarred?

To my disappointment, however, I found myself completely lonely in that room too and the music ceased in the same unexpected way it had started. I noticed that the music room had also been damaged. The table where Erik used to work on other things than music was missing a leg, the marvelous tapestry that used to cover the room had been totally retailed and, kind of replacing it, pages of various books were dispersed on the floor. I ran my hands on every bookshelf and every drawer, feeling the damages and looking for the violin I had given to Erik long ago. In the end, I found nothing. He used to keep the instrument in a locked drawer, but this drawer was empty and open without any forcing marks. It appeared that the person who had opened it had the key and only one person had it...

Sighing, I left the music room and continued my way to the next room – my room. I became instantly surprised when I opened the door. The room was intact. The bed, the mirror, even the book I was reading: everything was there. Why didn't the mob destroy this room? Perhaps they didn't find it. Erik had built its entrance as a hidden passage.

I stayed in the house for very long, checking the damages, searching for the things that were missing or simply breathing the underground's different air. But the time was running and soon nightfall would come. The idea of going back through those passages at night, without Erik's help, terrorized me and I couldn't stay all night in that empty house either. I hurried and made my way back to my dressing room, then to the street.

I couldn't command my thoughts when I was back in my flat. I thought about the music I had heard, wondering if it had been just my imagination, and remembered the missing violin – had it been stolen by a member of the mob or taken by Erik at that moment? There were never-ending possibilities, but my heart just accepted one of them. 


	5. The presentation and the presence

**A/N: **Sorry for taking quite a long time to post this chapter. I was spending my vacations in my grandma's house and the computer in there isn't that... cooperative :P But finally there you have chapter five, the penultimate chapter of this phic. As always, warnings about grammar errors are welcome and I would be pleased to read your reviews :) 

_Phantom Lover:_ You're right about the references, I love using this recourse. And yes, the tenor IS Rhapsody's vocalist, Fabio Lione. I think he has the talent and the dramatic capacity to be a tenor, but knowing the impossibility of this to happen in reality, I used it here ;)

**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters, as said before... 

Chapter V – The presentation and the presence

The weeks of tiring rehearsals passed fast. Faster than I wished.

I missed Erik's tutoring very much and for the first time in my career, I had to practice on my own. Even though I had interpreted this opera before, I needed his help and his persistence to achieve my best on every single note. 

I continued to visit his house, but it was useless. He wasn't there and I hadn't heard the mysterious music anymore.

I couldn't rely on anyone to talk about my problems or rehearse with me. With the proximity of the opening night, everybody in the cast was becoming even more anxious and individualist. Madame Giry was doing her best with the Corps de Ballet, which means that Meg was rehearsing all the time. Despite that, she still arranged free time to become Lione's best friend. The man seemed to have pleasing ways and as Meg told me many times, he had an exotic charm with his long curled hair and dark eyes. She was constantly making long walks in the Parisian boulevards accompanied by him.

Finally, the gala night arrived and the Opera was crowded as always; all the high society was there, waiting to hear and see what they considered the best performances in the entire France.

I glanced at the Box Five during the entire presentation. That box had been nicknamed the "Haunted Box" since the starting of the strange occurrences attributed to the Opera Ghost. According to one of his demands, Erik was the only one who could sit there and watch me every night. I wondered if he was watching me from it that night and tried to catch any hint of his presence.

But, to my total deception, I didn't. I was beginning to think that maybe Meg was right; maybe Erik had traveled to another country, maybe he was dead. Suddenly, his words echoed in my mind, much more frightening than when they had been pronounced by him: _I couldn't die without even looking at you for the last time. _Avoiding the numerous compliments and the pain inflicted by all those dark thoughts, I tried to go directly to my dressing room, but a familiar voice interrupted my path before I could reach the door.

"Bravo, Christine," I turned. It was Raoul. I had seen him in the audience and had forgotten that he would probably come to compliment me. "You were brilliant today."

"Thank you, Raoul," I said, smiling, "it's very good to see you again."

"I knew that it would be good to have you working here again. You aren't my fiancée anymore," he spoke with an almost imperceptible note of sadness in his voice, then smiled and continued at once, "but you're the best to the opera house and… to my ears."

Now, it was fairly clear that Raoul could have prohibited the managers from contract me, but he didn't do that even with the end of our engagement. I was positive that any other man in his position wouldn't do the same. 

"Well, thank you," I said and prepared to enter in my dressing room. "I have to go now… I'll change and go home."

"Won't you go to the cast's private party?" he asked with concern.

"No, I'm not feeling well," I observed his expression instantly change and added, "but don't worry, it's just a headache. I'll be better tomorrow."

"Oh," he tried to detain me, "I can escort you, if you wish."

"Thank you but no," I refused, touching lightly his shoulder. "I'll be fine. Besides, you shall not miss the party."

"All right," he nodded hesitantly, "if this what you wish... Good night, Christine."

"Good night, Raoul. See you."

I closed the door and changed quickly. Then, I went to the front of the mirror to face the grief uttered in my own image.

"Oh, Erik, how I wish you were here," I murmured, pressing my fingertips against the cold surface of my well-known passage and closing my eyes as insistent tears filled them.

Although the managers had suspected of my attitude, I insisted on keeping my old dressing room. I didn't care at all about their reactions, because I still had the hope that Erik would emerge from it and take me to his lair once again. Obviously, it hadn't happened. Sighing, I opened my eyes and stared at my own reflection. I gasped, astonished when I saw the image in there.

The mirror reflected the window of my dressing room, through it, the roof of the houses that surrounded the theatre and, on the top of one of them, a figure. Erik.

He didn't seem to notice my discovery as I went toward the window, trying to discern his figure in the shadows of the night. His black cloak looked like a big dark cloud, dancing with the wind, and I caught a glimpse of his white mask. Only then I realized that he wasn't looking at my dressing room, but to the opposite side, probably observing the people on street. Could it be that he was visible to me just by accident? That was what I called Fate. I dashed out of the opera house, promising myself that I wouldn't lose him this time and ran on the cobblestone streets, cursing my steps for being so noisy and checking if Erik was still on the roof. He was there all the time. 

But when I finally reached the house and looked at its roof again, he wasn't there. I tried to breath unhurriedly and rationalize calmly. I had looked at the roof only seconds before stopping in front of that house. Erik probably was still there or, at least, not too far from me. I knew that he moved like a cat, becoming invisible to everyone. In this point, however, I was different from other people. I had a sixth sense that constantly warned me of his presence, even when he didn't want it.

Closing my eyes, I sensed the tense air that surrounded me as an indication of his presence there. I heard faint footsteps right behind me, as faint as they were that morning in the inn, and instinctively moved in that direction, succeeding on touch his stiffen sleeve.

"Erik, I won't let you go until you hear what I have to say," my voice ricocheted on the darkness of that place, with a firmness that I didn't know I had. "After that, if this is your wish, you will never see me again."


	6. Révéler

**A/N:** So it's finally over. I thank you all that reviewed its chapters and hope you like the ending, without your opinions, I would never have the incentive I needed to go on. Honestly, I don't consider this piece one of my best works (and I can say it, because I wrote many others after finishing this one and will be posting them soon), but I can't deny it improved a lot my writing skills and made me grow as a writer. This was my first phic with more than one chapter and it was really a great experience to write and post it here. Well, to the chapter!

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, I don't own them... But I do own the will to keep borrowing them from their real and incredibly creative owners.

Chapter VI – Révéler

"This way," his voice reached me before Erik himself arose from the shadows, gesturing for me to follow him. I struggled not to reach out and hold him, knowing the impossibility of that move in such circumstances, and walked obediently under his guidance.

In instants, we were out of the street, in a quiet place surrounded by trees, lit by the melancholy of the stars high above and seeming completely hidden from the rest of the world. The kind of place that only Erik could find in Paris.

I knew it would be hard to make he understand my reasons, even though they were evident to me. And he wouldn't demolish so easily the wall of iciness that consisted on his own self-defense, this I had recognized even before his harsh demand for an answer,

 "So, Christine, what do you still want from me?"

"Erik, I..." I had prepared myself many times for this moment, but when it had finally come, I was momentarily speechless. "Although you made it appear like a dream, I know that it was really you... that morning."

"Very clever," he confirmed and fell silent, waiting for me to go on.

"How?" I gave a questioning look at his impassible face, unable to detain my curiosity at any mechanism used by him during that appearance.

"Hypnotizing you," he explained tiredly, "it's quite simple to someone who worked with it."

The thought that maybe he had carried me to the bed when I fell asleep under the effect of hypnosis made me shiver lightly at the possibility of being in his arms, so close to him once more. But I redirected my thoughts to the present and to his reasons with a start. "But why didn't you make me forget about everything then?"

"I simply thought that you would take it as a bad dream," he said with disdain, "in what else would I appear for you?"

"I just came back to the Opera to search for you. People don't usually seek for their nightmares," I said quietly. "Tonight was my first presentation, did you see it?"

"Yes," he nodded and paused; knowing the next thing he was about to say was a lie. "And I could also see that you don't need my lessons anymore."

"But I missed them," I approached him, locking my eyes onto his. "I missed them very much, Angel."

"And what does the vicomte thinks about your return?" he changed the subject, but didn't avert his gaze.

"I believe he's content," I said, annoyed by the change of subject. "The whole company is doing great."

"I see," he muttered ironically. "A vicomtesse may work, after all."  

"I will never be a vicomtesse. I broke up with Raoul," I replied and continued resolutely, "I care for him, but I don't love him. I never did..." _Actually, Erik, __I love you. I reflected silently, my initial resolve suddenly abandoning me.           _

He looked away as I trailed off and I knew it was my turn to change the subject.

"Erik, why didn't you return to your house?" I asked, revealing my own incursions to his lair and trying to confirm my impressions.

"I did return, Christine. Two days after that fateful night, I returned to my lair to try to repair the damages. As you can imagine, the alarms were broken and I couldn't notice your presence immediately. When I did, you were crying on the corridor..." he said and looked at me again, his eyes betraying his feelings for a brief moment, before a look of forced indifference filled them. Taking a deep breath, he continued to talk,  "I wanted to comfort you, but I did not wish to be seen. So I started to play that song in the violin. When you ran to the music room and then continued your search through the rest of the house, I realized that unlike the others, you hadn't believed that I was dead and insisted on chasing me. Yet, it is time to stop with this hide-and-seek, don't you think? Even now, there's one thing I don't understand and brought you here to make it clear: why all this?"

"Oh, Erik," I said, covering his hands with my own, "it's all my fault. I should have stayed, followed my heart and my real choice..."

"What are you saying, Christine?" I felt his hands colder as he asked that.

"I'm trying to say, my dear Angel," I replied, giving a steady look into his tormented dark eyes, "that I chose you. I want to spend the rest of my life by your side. That's why I searched for you."

"No, that can be," he whispered and withdrew his hands hastily. "It's so obvious, Christine, you can't be bound to a hateable monster like me. Things don't work in that way and-- "

"You are not that, Erik," I said firmly, placing one finger on his lips. "Don't ever say it again. You saved me from my solitude, you gave me your music, you protected me. A monster wouldn't do this."

"I killed people, I brought you to the darkness, I took you from the world you've known," he shook his head desolately. "You should hate me, Christine."

"No, I shouldn't," I continued helplessly, clasping my hands on his chest and looking deeply at him. "Erik, I love you."

His expression showed all too well that he was astounded, but still he laid a cautious hand on my shoulder.

"It's my choice, you asked me to make it," I spoke gently. "Now, will you accept it?"

His hand came to gently stroke the back of my neck and he bent to kiss me without saying a word. When his lips closed over mine, I realized the difference between this kiss and our first kiss. Our first kiss contained all the hopelessness of an impossible love; this one was filled with the realization that this love wasn't really impossible.

"Do _I have a choice?" he murmured as we held each other tight. "I love you."_

**Xxx****X**

It has been six whole months since my walk through the long and winding road. Many things happened during this time. Meg and Lione are engaged; everybody knows they are meant to be. Madame Giry is very happy with it and continues to exercise her endless patience teaching the little rats from the ballet corps. Raoul is traveling around the world and constantly send me letters from different countries.

And I? At the present time, I'm entering in a certain lair, beneath a certain opera house and finding a certain angel playing the piano.

"I'm back," I whisper, holding him, "as you asked me, I bought a new inkpot for you."

"So soon?" he inquires with a smile, interrupting the music. "I told you I wouldn't disappear."

"I know," I laugh at Erik's little joke and kiss him on the cheek, "I wouldn't let you."


End file.
